Straight Scoop
by Random Guise
Summary: Once again, for my birthday I give a gift to my readers - another Willy Wonka story. This one pays homage to the noir classic "The Maltese Falcon" with a wink and a nudge thrown in by way of parody. I don't own these characters, but I do like a little sugar now and then. Done in four chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Another of my Willy Wonka series based on the 1970 movie, with a tip of a felt hat to a certain 1941 film.**

* * *

Straight Scoop

_Charlie Bucket entered the office that he shared his mentor and partner Willy Wonka. Although still a boy, he was learning the candy business by leaps and bounds and every day seemed to reveal some new twist in the business. There was a lot to learn, and with a teacher like Willy the lessons were anything but structured._

_Even now he was supposed to meet Willy to discuss some of the nuances of running the factory. However, the older man wasn't here; he was probably delayed with some matter, although there was always the chance he had forgotten. Charlie adopted his usual strategy to wait a reasonable time just in case it was the former. On the way to his desk, he passed by Willie's and noticed the newest copy of True Chocolateer magazine, a publication of highly-exaggerated fiction for people in the candy industry. Seeing what looked like a chocolate hawk on the cover, he picked up the magazine and sat down at his desk to read the featured story._

The Maltose Falcon

The dame walked into my candy store and strode right past the chocolate bars, the gumball display and even the jawbreaker rack with nary a glance; she only had eyes for the man behind the counter - Sam "Willy" Scoop.

That's me, and when someone comes into my shop without looking at the sweets I know something sour is afoot; San Francisco is a beautiful city but it can stink with the best of them. I brushed off a speck from my purple coat's lapel and straightened my bow tie.

"Are you Mr. Scoop or Mr. Bowman?" she asked nervously. Customers usually don't get nervous in candy shops unless they had too few coins and too big an appetite. This doll looked like she had plenty of both, but only time would tell what the appetite was for.

I tipped my hat to one side and leveled with her. "I'm Scoop; Bowman's my partner. What can I do you for?"

"My name's Wonderful. I'm looking for my sister" she stated matter of factly.

I let her watch me look deliberately around the shop from my vantage point. "I don't know who she is, but she's not here unless she's invisible. Is she invisible?"

"No, of course not."

"Then she's not here." I like to call a spade a spade.

"I know she isn't; but I thought you might be able to help me find her. She came into San Francisco for the big candy convention last Tuesday with a man named Thursday and I haven't heard from her since. I think he brought her across state lines for immoral confectionery practices and I need to take her back home. The police said you were the best detective in the whole candy trade - will you help?" she asked, pulling out a few portraits of some dead presidents. I looked at the bills in her purse and quickly counted the zeroes before making my decision and I quickly agreed.

"I couldn't help but overhear" Miles Bowman said as he entered from the back stockroom as he introduced himself. "I'm going to retire next week anyway, so why don't I met this Thursday fellow next Tuesday?"

"Tuesday's no good, Thursday's leaving on Monday" she said as she shook her head.

"How about Saturday?"

"He's busy at a Sundae workshop."

"Wednesday it is" I broke in, since we were running out of days pretty quickly. "Miles will meet Thursday tonight at the Tomorrow Club, and we'll tail him back to find your sister. We'll get her home; there are a few tricks of the trade to get her out of this jam." We talked for a few minutes and a plan started to jell.

"Thank you" she said as she swept out of the shop as quickly as she entered. Women were like malted milk balls; the first one was really special and second one was better, but after a few dozen you start to lose interest for a while. I hadn't had one for quite a while.

"One for you and one for me" Miles said as he split the C notes between us. "I'm sure looking forward to spending this in retirement. It's not a gold rush, but it's a start."

...

Miles' body lay at the bottom of the hill, completely covered in a creamy white layer of swirls.

"The way we figured it, somebody pushed him over the railing here" Detective Poolhouse said as he pointed to the broken railing. "He must have rolled down the hill and conked his head on that big rock, knocking him out. Then the person covered him in frosting and smothered him. They used a Smith & Wesson spatula."

"Somebody iced him. He woulda retired next week if he hadn't taken the case" I noted dryly as I studied the sky; it was a clear night and even with the city lights you could make out the milky way while the full moon was about to set in the west. Whoever it was, he probably saw them coming. They didn't sneak up behind him either - the night was so quiet you could hear a gum drop. I picked up my gum and stuffed it in my pocket before letting the detective in on the case. "He was tailing a guy named Thursday."

"You won't give me his name today?"

"No, his name was Thursday. Looks like maybe Thursday didn't like being tailed - now I gotta get new stationary made at the shop with just my name on it."

"You gonna break it to his wife?"

"No, I'll tell my printer first. But I'll let my secretary Effie Praline do it tonight; I'll, uh, comfort her tomorrow when I can work it into my schedule."

"Sweet."

...

I got into the office late the next morning after a late night visit from Poolhouse and his superior Lt. Dundee telling me that Thursday got his just desserts by being strangled with a licorice rope. They were checking me out, but I was clean as far as Thursday was concerned. With so many unsavory characters hanging around after the convention, I told them a thug could be hired for peanuts and they left, figuring I was nuts.

While setting up the new stationary with my secretary I was interrupted with a call from Miss Wonderful telling me to meet her at the Trumpet Apartments. She had checked in, and when she registered she had left the name field LeBlanc. When I got there she let me in and I looked around while I waited for the next shoe to drop. She was either still unpacking or she was just a messy housekeeper; regardless, I settled deeper into a chair while she admitted that the story she had given us was false. It was then she admitted her name was really Brigid O'Irish.

"We figured that; no one levels with the real story at first. It's like those cheap chocolate Easter rabbits you see at the five and dime; they look good on the outside, but nothing but hollow on the inside. You know what that means?"

"That unscrupulous candy makers deceive shoppers with false packaging?"

"No, it means I get to keep both hundred dollar bills now - Miles won't need his in retirement."

"Will you help me, Mr. Shovel? I can't tell you the real story - not yet." She batted her eyes at me and played vulnerable. Dolls do that; they know guys are suckers for it. I was as cynical as a newcomer to an island of cannibals, but her money was as good as her looks so I played along.

"The name is Scoop; Sam Scoop. Some of us, eh, don't need to hide behind fake names. Okay Miss O'Irish, if you're looking for help then this candyman can."


	2. Chapter 2

That evening I was back at the office working the phone, making sure my lawyer was up on his fine print. We got a visitor, a Joel Alexandria, who tore a page out of the Dapper Dan manual. Dressed to the nines plus a half - even his business card smelled flowery. I listened to him while he dished some story about paying five G's to find a chocolate bird.

"Five thousand for a lump of chocolate? You could buy a few trucks full of chocolate eggs for that price" I said adding my best snickers.

"Yeah, but you know how hard it is to park in San Fransisco. Besides, this is a very special bird."

"Does it fly?"

"No."

"Then it ain't that special."

But it must have been special to him because he drew a .25 water pistol on me when I was distracted on the intercom. He threatened to shoot me while he searched the place, but what he found was it took only one punch to knock him out; I didn't hit him too hard because I didn't want it to be a jawbreaker. While he dreamed of lollipops I verified his identity; he didn't have the dough but he was who he said he was based on his papers. I found a ticket in his things - it wasn't golden, but he had just been to the Kit Kat Klub here in town.

After he woke up from his nap he fussed about how I wrinkled his shirt and wouldn't tell me who his boss was, but he was persistent in searching for the bird. Since he knew about Miles and Thursday, I figured there might be a connection. Later I found myself being followed by a man; I'm no tour guide so I gave him the slip to keep my business my own.

Back at Brigid's place, she'd straightened up the room and put a better facade on until I mentioned my visit with a certain Joel Alexandria. Then she started housecleaning to avoid looking at me and I knew she wasn't looking for some jelly beans she'd dropped. She let me taste her lipstick and agreed to meet with Joel.

"But not at my place; it's not safe."

"We could meet him in the middle of the freeway - is that any safer?" I asked.

"Slightly less, I imagine. I'm relying on you to protect me."

"I'll protect you from the press, the rain and for a little while maybe the police. But I ain't your sugar daddy." I gave it a thought. "We'll go to my place. Unless I miss my guess, Joel is fastidious and chaos will keep him off balance. That's my decorating style in spades." I've got my candy shop organized to within an inch of its life and could find any item blindfolded, but it'll take me a week to find a pair of socks back home. I sure could use an army of little helpers to straighten things up, but good help is hard to find.

"Have you ever been in love, Mr. Scoop?" she said as she waved her thick lashes at me.

"Couple times a week, but it never worked out; the woman always found out."

"No kids?"

"None. I had one dame try to pin the fatherhood of her baby Ruth on me, but I wasn't even around when the whole thing started, if you catch my drift."

"Maybe when this is all over we can change that."

"I hope not."

...

Back at my place, I didn't even have a chance to offer Brigid a lemon drop before Joel showed up. From their initial glances I think they might have met before.

"It's good to see you again, madam" he said. Yup, they probably have met before. Real cordial-like. So all I had to do was sit back and take in their conversation; a man can learn a lot by listening, assuming it wasn't an act like some artificial flavor - where you're drinking a purple soda only to find out it tasted of green apple instead of grape. So we sat and played nice like adults are supposed to do, just like the three musketeers.

The topic turned to some tubby guy they both knew and how to attract a man, and then the door buzzer sounded. I left the two to discuss the finer points of how to pick up men and answered the door. Just my luck - Poolhouse and Dundee were making their night rounds and just happened to be walking past my third floor door. We stood outside trading recipes until Joel and Brigid made too much noise playing patty-cake and I had to introduce everybody. The cops left when I wouldn't let them play and Joel left for his hotel and I tried to get as much as I could from Brigid overnight.

The next day I met Joel at his hotel; the cops had interviewed him all night and were still trying to find out how to play patty-cake. I also saw the guy that was tailing me and played a hunch that he worked for the tubby guy and gave him a message to pass along.

In my office Brigid was waiting for me, Effie was busy the phone while the D.A. and the tubby guy were taking turns calling, and I caught a sight of Mile's widow Iva prowling around waiting to be comforted. I haven't been this busy since they packed out the shop the day before Valentine's Day. So I asked Effie to stash Brigid at her place, put off Iva and checked in with the secretary for the D.A. It was turning out to be quite a busy morning.

The tubby guy turned out to be name Kasper Bellyman; I can see where the nickname came from. He called for a meeting and I accepted at his place. Turns out to be a pretty ritzy setup, and his little helper by the name of Wilmer Chef turned out to be my tail who left us to talk. And his nickname wasn't just based on real name; it looked like the guy really enjoyed a cupcake or twelve.

"Care for a drink?" he asked as he poured himself one.

"Sure."

"Good; I like a man who drinks. Can you stay tight-lipped?" Kasper asked.

"No, I like to talk."

"I like talking with people who like to talk." After we both had a cigar I started to worry if we were going to be engaged next. But he got down to business and we pretended to know what we were talking about, while not actually saying anything. So I left my new best friend and went to go check in with the District Attorney and didn't tell him anything either and I did it forcefully before storming out. I didn't want them to think they had me over a barrel, not even a root beer one.

By this time I was expecting some company and sure enough Chef turned up looking like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and said his boss wanted to see me again. Not wanting to gum up the progress I was making, I agreed.


	3. Chapter 3

"You have no idea how special the Maltose Falcon is" Kasper said as he settled in. Everything in his apartment said 'comfort' in big, red letters.

"Enlighten me."

"Very well." He turned on a lamp and continued. "You know of course about the Mayans and Xocolatl."

"Sure I do. No candyman worth his jelly beans doesn't know the origin of chocolate that the Europeans got from New World" I answered. You'd have to be from Mars not to know that.

"Excellent. I like a man who knows his chocolate. Well then, you know of course that the Mayans originally used the cocoa beans in the making of their quite bitter drink that was, quite frankly, a little unpalatable for civilization."

"I think the Mayans might argue just who were the civilized ones, but go on."

"Indeed. I like a man who appreciates irony. Well sir, few know that there was another type of chocolate that came from them - one so delicious, so addictive, that the secret of its existence and recipe were only passed down orally through the ages to select individuals."

"I never heard that."

"Of course you didn't; the secret was lost generations ago when the keeper of the secret died before passing it on to another. Only vague rumors about what it might have been still survive, and they border on myth. But this we know; it involved a special addition of a particular sweetener called maltose." Kasper took a drink of Scotch to pause. "Mind you, not all of this research is mine - some of it is mine and some is from my brother; I've put my work and Reese's pieces together to come up with a whole picture."

"I know about maltose; I'm particularly fond of a few liqueurs myself that I occasional 'test' when I'm making my adult candy line. It's not any more special than sucrose, fructose and a few other sweeteners" I said. After all, any good candyman has to know those things as part of the business. Kasper had offered me a turkey sandwich from a tray and I had eaten it quickly; in this business you grab a meal when you can. I ate another to keep the first one company.

"There you are wrong. This was a special maltose, and its creation is what has been lost along with what proportion to use in the chocolate. The means of passing down the knowledge was too brittle, I'm afraid."

"That's all well and good, but how does that tie in with the chocolate bird?"

"That is the most extraordinary part of the story. A farmer outside of Jolly, Texas was exploring a natural cavern on his property and came across a large waxy spheroid. This Jolly rancher carefully melted the waxy coating, and guess what he found?"

"That he ruined his new carpet?"

"By Jove sir, you are amusing; I like a man who carries his wit about him like Wilmer carries his weapons. No, he found a ceramic shell underneath. Then he accidentally dropped the shell on the ground."

"Butterfingers."

"Precisely, but in this case good fortune; when he removed the shards he was astounded to find..."

"A chocolate bird."

"No, a wrapping of burlap. But under THAT was a falcon, made of chocolate. He put it in his truck and on the way to giving it to an orphan's home, he stopped for gas. In an astounding coincidence, the gas station attendant just so happened to be a keen student of the native peoples of the early Americas and recognized it as being possibly of Mayan origin."

"Remarkable. But even if it was the real deal, unless you dug up the guy that made it you're at a dead end." I was getting bored and my glass was empty.

"Ah, so you would think. But science can analyze the chocolate and possibly determine how it was made. They call it 'reverse engineering' I believe."

"Sounds more like what you call running a train backwards."

"I don't follow you."

"Nevermind. So what happened to the bird?"

"The falcon passed through a few hands and then disappeared while being stored at a university. Clues and a few bodies have led us to San Francisco. Are you willing to hand over the bird? For say, $100,000 bar no higher offers from me as I get more information" he asked, pressing the issue. He also pressed his cigar against the arm of the chair, burning a hole in it as he leaned toward me in expectation.

"Sounds good to me" I said, yawning. That tryptophan from the turkey sandwiches kicked in and I was out like a light. Kasper might have kept talking for all I know; he either knew his stuff or could spin a fanciful yarn.

...

When I woke up from my nap I was lying down on the floor with a men-sized nine bruise on my forehead. I checked the room for clues, and found a paper that mentioned a ship called the _SS Dove_ coming in that night. I went down to the docks to check out the ship, but due to a large barbecue no one was allowed on board.

I went back to the office and told Effie all I knew; I know how those stories go where the character gets killed before he can tell anybody anything. Then a special delivery showed up; so special it was the last one the man ever made as he dropped a package and choked to death, gurgling white foam.

Effie bit her hand to stop herself from screaming as I checked the body; it was the master from the _Dove_. I took a whiff and tasted the foam.

"Is he..." she asked.

"Yup, dead. Looks like he asphyxiated when he got pumped full of whipped cream."

"Oh" she said as she started to sway.

I grabbed her and held her upright. Then the phone rang and she shakily answered it, hanging up quickly. "Telemarketer" she explained. Then the phone rang again and I could hear her talking to a woman who screamed. "That was Brigid. She's in trouble. You might want to do something about that."

I thought quickly. "Call the police but don't tell them about me, the bird, the call or Brigid. Don't tell them about Iva either, or the captain here."

Perplexed, she asked "What should I tell them then?"

"The truth of course. Except those other things. I gotta run." I picked up the bundle and patted her on the top of the head before rushing out. On the way to the trap to rescue Brigid, I hid the bundle in a bus terminal. When a guy needs a safe place to hide something until the heat dies down, and then those lockers can be a real life saver.


	4. Chapter 4

On the way over to my place, I took the time in the cab to think about the case. Of all the candy shops in all the towns in all the world in all the solar systems in all the galaxies of this particular universe, she had to walk into mine. And why did I have to answer the ad in the back of that magazine to become a licensed private investigator when I could have bought those nifty x-ray glasses for a dollar ninety-nine plus tax? And why didn't I just learn to drive and stop taking cabs all the time?

When my ride pulled up to my place, Brigid staggered over to me from next door.

"Sam, this came for you while I was hiding out in the next doorway." She handed me a letter with the initials PEZ on them. "Someone important?"

I shook my head. "Not anymore. I wrote a fellow by the name of Presidente Emiliano Zapata when I was a kid. Looks like he finally wrote back to me."

"He writes pretty slow."

"Not only that, but he's been dead for twenty-four years. Maybe someone just got around to picking up his mail. Guess I should probably take him off my Christmas card list, but it's might short as it is. Let's go inside, sugar - I expect to have company waiting for us."

I couldn't have been more right; inside I found not only Wilmer, but Kasper and Joel too - I guess the cops were running a little behind schedule today and wouldn't show up until later. It was one too many to play bridge, so we sat around and discussed the falcon. I gave them my terms in no uncertain terms.

"We gotta set this up to work for everyone or it's no dice. There has to be a fall guy for the cops or it won't work."

"What about the cleaning lady?" Kasper asked.

"Does this place look like I have a cleaning lady?" I retorted.

"Good point. I like a man that...oh, forget it. Who do you suggest?"

We tried a few combinations, but none of them were perfect. It turned out Wilmer was the closest fit of all, so we put him to sleep and took away his deadly kitchen utensils before finalizing a price. I rang Effie and told her to pick up the bundle and bring it over right away.

"What are you going to do with your money, Mr. Scoop?" Kasper asked.

"I don't know...maybe buy an engagement ring with a big diamond. You want a piece of rock candy for your finger?" I asked Brigid.

"Sure" she purred.

After settling in, we waited until the buzzer sounded. I answered the door and took the bundle from Effie and then deposited it on a table for inspection. Kasper gleefully tore the newspaper wrapping away, unwound the cloth and looked at the item.

"I have it. After seventeen years, I have it. Now to make sure." He pulled out a penknife and carved off a small piece and ate it. His blissful smile turned to a frown quickly. "A fake! This isn't even chocolate, it's carob!" Wilmer escaped while the room erupted into a mass of blame throwing and name calling until Kasper regained his composure. "We shall have to go to Bakersfield and pick up the trail again; not an end to our quest, but simply a delay. Are you with me Joel?"

"Of course, but why does it have to be Bakersfield?" he said, shivering at the prospect.

Kasper then proved that we all were carrying a gun and took back most of my retainer before leaving with Joel. I immediately got on the phone and called the cops to let them know to pick up Wilmer, Kasper and Joel. It was then I began to confront Brigid to get the truth out of her; I pressed her like a pair of pants at the cleaners until she confessed to killing Miles while I took a look at the bird that had been such a great disappointment.

"I had to Sam; I had no choice - I had to get Thursday off my back and you were the only way to do it. But no matter what happened I was coming back to you afterward; I knew that from the first moment we met that we were destined to be sweethearts."

"And send cute Valentines to each other like innocent lovers? I'll fall for you kid, but I won't _take_ the fall for you. I won't play the sap!" I said, my disdain as thick as syrup. "If they don't hang you, I'll wait for you when you get out in twenty years because maybe I'm just a sucker. But in the candy industry, when a man's partner is killed it's bad for business and a recipe for disaster. I have no choice. Maybe you love me, maybe I love you, or maybe I'm just dreaming the whole thing up; you devote your whole life to making other people's lives sweeter and your own life turns up sour or worse, nothing at all. That the..."

"But Sam..."

"Let me finish! Where was I? Oh yeah, that's the way it is. There, now I'm finished."

The buzzer sounded and I let the cops in, turning over Brigid and giving the cops the dope on the whole scheme. Poolhouse picked up the bird. "Chocolate?" he asked me with his brows furrowed.

"The, ah, stuff that creams are made of" I told him as I took the bird and put it back on the table before joining them all downtown.

But there was something that only I knew. I got the idea from Kasper's story about when it was originally found. If it could be hidden underneath several layers, why not another? So I bore a hole in the base and under the carob there was another layer; a layer so sweet, so creamy, so wonderful that a certain candy shop soon had a candy that was selling so fast they couldn't keep it on the shelf; little Maltose Falcons, thanks to a chemist I happen to know. Who knows, in twenty years when Brigid gets out I'll be rolling in mounds of dough and we can both make up for lost time - that would be sweet.

The End

WW

_Charlie finished the story, almost breathless. The story had love, chocolate and excitement; it had everything! Willy walked into the room and Charlie immediately thrust the magazine at him. "Is it true?"_

_Willy took the magazine and smiled. "That depends. Yes, I wrote the story. And it so happens that I'm coming out with a new line of candy called Maltose Falcons. But I'm sure that any connection between the the events in the story and reality is purely coincidence" he winked._

_"So it was all just a way to introduce new candy. Wouldn't an advertisement be easier? I don't think that many people read this magazine."_

_"Easier, yes; as much fun, no." Willy paused for a moment. "You don't think that many people read True Chocolateer? Well, they should - they don't know what they're missing. Some of the stories get me so excited I sleep even less than I normally do."_

_"That's nice" Charlie said, clearly disappointed by the way it was written on his face. He hoped with a name like that, the magazine stories might have been more fact than fiction._

_"Now don't be that way Charlie, remember - even the oddest tales usually have some element of truth to them" Willy said as he grinned. "The hard part is finding out how much."_

THE END

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**A/N: I teased somewhat at the end of my Wonka story "Introduction" that Willy would have to come up with a different way to announce his next product. When I happened to see the title "Maltese Falcon" and thought how the prop looked like chocolate but the name sounded like "Maltose", the two ideas came together and this was the result.**

**My grandparents usually had copies of National Enquirer and True Detective magazines at their house, so why not one based on the intrigue of the chocolate industry?**


End file.
